Sanguine Sky
by lovesickteenagers
Summary: Separated from their party by a darkspawn attack, four warriors must brave the murky territories of Ferelden and their own minds in order to return to civilisation. T for swearing, unpleasantness and probably sex later on.
1. Chapter 1

The camp was ruined. The ground was trampled, clods of earth thrown everywhere: there was no sign of the green grass that had previously blanketed what was now a mess of churned-up mud. Tents were trampled into the ground, shredded and ruined; the firewood was strewn across the clearing, and pots, pans and tools were sunken into the dirt. There was a moment of silence as four pairs of eyes took in the destruction. The spell was broken when Leliana gave a cry. The sudden noise made the other three jump; out of the corner of his eye, Zevran saw light flicker around the Warden's fingers, subsiding a second later. The broken remnants of the bard's lute groaned as she lifted them. The neck was broken, the body caved in, and the strings were almost all snapped. The redhead cradled her instrument to her chest, her blue eyes wide and shocked.  
Zevran met the Warden's eyes behind her back. He mimed wiping away a tear and rolled his eyes, before turning to examine the wreckage of a tent. Zevran too turned away, not wanting Leliana to see his smirk. The lute had meant a lot to her; he pitied her loss. Still, reacting as if it was the dead body of a child was rather unnecessary. Reaching in between the tattered fabric flaps that had once been an entrance, he pulled out the fur blanket Wynne had bought in Denerim. Kneeling on the pelt to avoid getting his knees muddy, he rummaged around in the tent, producing a bag of herbs, half open and spilling everywhere; a bedroll, now ripped and filthy; a dagger, half buried in the mud, and various items of clothing, all ragged and ruined.  
"There's no blood," Morrigan commented. "I would assume that they did the sensible thing and ran as soon as Alistair sensed them coming," the mage was stood by what was left of her separate campfire, sorting through the wreck. "I merely wish that they'd thought to save some of our belongings... The grimoire is ruined!" she flicked through some of the pages of the black book, looking digusted.  
"I hope they're OK... I wonder which way they went," Leliana hugged her lute to her chest, staring around the ruined camp with wide eyes.  
Zevran could almost hear the Warden rolling his eyes. "Get it together. Leliana, go through the tents, get any clothes, blankets, bandages, that are still intact. Anything useful. Rags can be used as kindling, or to patch up clothes, put them in a separate pile. Zevran, weapons and tools. Morrigan, food, containers... anything we can use that isn't too heavy to carry," Therion was walking around the campsite, examining the tracks imprinted into the mud. By the looks of things, he wasn't having much luck finding anything, and no wonder. The earth was so churned up, it was a wonder there were any footprints at all. Zevran sighed and got to work, scrabbling through the tents and mess.  
The four of them worked quickly, silently. Leliana was the only one who showed her shock outwardly; she kept gasping at little things that had been left behind. Zevran and Therion's were expressions of intense concentration, while Morrigan was scowling.  
The work didn't take them long: there wasn't much that could be salvaged. "Filthy stinking beasts they may be, but I must admit, but I admire their ability to ruin things so thoroughly," Zevran remarked as he settled himself beside the pitiful pile of 'usable' items. Morrigan glowered, and turned to Therion. "I suggest we move. Find a place to camp far from here and plan our next move from there."  
"What would I do without you, Morrigan?" the dark-haired Warden sighed dramatically. "I thank the Maker every day that I have you here to guide me," stooping, he grabbed a bundle of clothes and thrust them at her. "And to carry things for me," he bent again to pick up the dented pot Zevran had salvaged. "And this," adding that to the pile in the furious witch's arms, he grinned at the other two. "That also goes for you two. Everyone carry something. We're going northeast,"  
"To Redcliffe? I suppose the others might be there..." Leliana looked doubtful as Therion nodded. "To Redcliffe, and if they're not there, we keep going to Denerim. That's what Alistair's going to do. Arl Eamon won't let him just ride back into the Frostbacks to find us, no matter how many tantrums he throws," he slid two muddy daggers into his belt.  
"So... we're just taking this in stride, I assume?" Zevran asked lightheartedly, and the dark-haired man smiled his crooked smile. "Well, my dear, you _could _fall down and cry, but you know how impatient I get. If you must, would you mind doing it while walking?" With that, the Warden turned and walked into the trees, the other three skipping over roots and rocks to keep up with him.  
With a chuckle and a promise to try, the Elf fell back to walk beside Leliana, who was trailing a little behind, looking miserable. "Why so sad, my friend?" he caught hold of her hand, raised it to his lips without breaking stride. Leliana pulled back and rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile nonetheless. "I'm sorry... I just... I loved that lute," she sighed. "But enough of such things. I shouldn't dwell on it: after all, there is nothing more I can do," and that seemed to be the end of the matter. They walked in silence for a while, and Zevran dared not break it. Leliana seemed to be in mourning; Morrigan seemed to be more irritable than usual due to the loss of her grimoire, and Therion was several steps ahead, probably lost in his own world. Zevran held his tongue, with some reluctance. He was not looking forward to the journey ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

The night was bitingly cold, and Morrigan was glad of the large fire she and the Warden had built; she did not envy Zevran and Leliana, who Therion had sent out on a hunting trip while he and Morrigan set up camp. They still weren't back, and she and Therion huddled on opposite sides of the fire, cloaks wrapped tight around their shoulders. The Warden was gazing intently at the flames, idly shredding leaves and feeding them into the crackled heat. His eyes were glazed over, as though he had crawled away inside his own head and couldn't find his way out. Those eyes were flickering black and golden pools, throwing back the firelight; the same firelight turned his hair the colour of dried blood, his skin glowing orange and the shadows around them as black as peat. The nights came early here in the mountains; fast, too. Less than an hour ago, the sky had been pale grey, the weak sun low over the trees. Morrigan shuddered and huddled a little closer to the fire, pulling her cloak tighter about herself. Thankfully, the night was still; wind would have been too much to take.

The movement seemed to jerk Therion back to reality: he blinked a few times, turned his head slowly to stare at her for a moment. Morrigan held his gaze coldly as she wondered what was passing through his mind. Eventually, he blinked and dropped his eyes, and Morrigan relaxed, feeling faintly pleased with herself. "Don't look so fucking grim," the Warden advised her, glancing up briefly and grinning broadly. "I'd have thought you'd be _laughing _at the prospect of a few days out of Alistair'scompany,"

Morrigan chuckled. "Don't think I'm not enjoying the thought, truly, I relish it. It is just... the grimoire," she sighed. "I have read through it, of course, and I believe I have enlightened myself enormously while doing so, but..."

"There's always more," Therion nodded. "Always something else you can learn. More power to be taken," Morrigan nodded in agreement, and the pair fell into silence once again.

Morrigan toyed with the head of her staff, running her fingers over the gnarled wood, caressing it thoughtfully. She was loathe to break the silence once again; Therion clearly had nothing else to say, and so the campsite was silent, save for the crackling of the fire. All the same... "Do you honestly believe Alistair won't come back to look for us? He's a sentimental fool. You know how highly he values... you, at least, and Leliana. Perhaps if it was just Zevran or I left behind he would move on, but..."

The Warden shrugged. "I don't know. Eamon won't want him rushing back into the wilderness, not with the treaties. Wynne probably won't let him do anything she thinks is rash," he paused, and shook his head. "She'll advocate just going on to Denerim, trust us to get ourselves there. I don't like the amount of influence she has over him,"

"She's an old woman," Morrigan pointed out. "Do you fear a woman old enough to be your grandmother?"

"I fear her ability to make Alistair do what she says. She's not just an old woman, she's a self-righteous, religious old woman who believes morality is absolute," the man glowered into the fire. "And you know how Alistair eats up everything she says... if she decides that maybe the maleficar and the assassin are better off away from her and the precious heir..."

"But the others. Sten follows you, not Alistair or Wynne; Oghren, too. And that mongrel of yours won't pay any attention to what Eamon, Wynne or anyone tells him. And rightly so. I wouldn't trust Alistair to lead us to Denerim without going via Orlais,"

That got a laugh out of him. "True. We'll be at Redcliffe in a few days - provided nothing goes wrong, which naturally, it will," sighing, he stretched out his arms.

A twig snapping had both of them going for their weapons, before Zevran and Leliana stepped into the circle of firelight. "Having a nice sit-down, are we?" the elf drawled. His voice grated on Morrigan's nerves. "Good to know you've earned the meal we caught for you," he threw a pair of rabbits onto the ground and seated himself beside Therion, throwing his cloak dramatically around him. Morrigan considered the repercussions for blowing him up, but eventually decided against it. The smell of blood might bring the darkspawn down on them.

"Morrigan, skin one of these," Therion picked up one of the creatures, produced a knife from his belt and got to work removing the skin. Distastefully, Morrigan followed suit.

"So, what were you talking about?" Zevran asked playfully, smirking at Therion. Morrigan glared. _Must he constantly flirt? If he kept it private it would be bearable... throwing himself at the Warden like a whore at a nobleman. _Her lip curled. _Have a little dignity. I thought assassins were supposed to be cold-blooded. It would appear I was mistaken._

"You," Therion said, sliding the skin away from the carcass. "We were discussing whether or not we'd get a reward for returning you to the Crows, or if they'd rather just try and kill us,"

"Oh, kill you, definitely," Zevran nodded. "They're rather sore losers, I'm afraid,"

"And one would assume you're not worth much. Although I suppose I would be grateful to the person who delivered _me _your body," Morrigan didn't look up from her work as she spoke. Her words dripped with venom. She could imagine the elf's smug smile well enough; she didn't need to see it in front of her.

"My dear, if you want my body, you only have to ask," came the suave response. Morrigan clenched her jaw. "You really wish to anger me while I hold a knife?" she spat, her head snapping up. Zevran opened his mouth, but Therion interrupted. "Stop it. Both of you. Do you want to give Alistair the satisfaction of killing each other?"

Morrigan threw the skinless carcass into Therion's lap. "I am unsure whether denying Alistair the satisfaction is worth denying myself the joy it would surely cause me,"

"I could cause you far more joy were I alive," Zevran interjected conversationally. Therion rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. "I said shut it, Zevran. I know you find it difficult to restrain yourself, but I don't think Morrigan would be averse to cutting your tongue out if you make another comment like that, and I don't think I'd be able to stop her,"

The assassin chuckled. "Morrigan, I apologise, and I will attempt to keep my tongue in check. It is far too useful to go without. Now, once we've eaten, I suggest I take first watch, and you all get some sleep."


End file.
